


Frostbite

by VerdantMoth



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Boarding School, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Snow, Snow and Ice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-15 23:57:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16943139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdantMoth/pseuds/VerdantMoth
Summary: When they’re settled again, curled under Merlin’s ratty quilt but basking in each other, Merlin whispers, “I’m sorry you’ll miss the big Christmas feast.”





	Frostbite

Winter creeps in eddying patterns along the windows. He’s come as He hasn’t in many years; lazy, slowly, unbothered. Merlin watches as the snow falls like cotton rain, flakes as big as his eyes catching in trees and bushes. As far as he can see, it covers the ground and buildings. The whole world’s gone white and cold.

He shivers, teeth clacking loud in the empty room. He _hates_ winter. Bloody awful time of year. He misses the color. The vibrant green and bright yellows and brilliant reds and stunning blues. Mostly, he misses the feeling in his toes and his fingers and his nose.

Speaking of, he runs a hand sleeve across his face, not bothered at all when it comes away slightly green. Most of his sleeves are a tad crusty this time of year.

Wind rattles the glass in its frame, and with it, Merlin’s shoulders shake. He wraps his quilt tighter around him, whispers words against the fraying threads. They don’t work. They never have. But still he tries, still he speaks the phrases his mother once murmured.

The door creaks. Merlin  jerks his head in surprise. He thought he was the last one here.

Arthur Pendragon’s head appears in the crack. “Merlin,” he whispers. “Are you awake?”

“Y-yes.” Merlin says, teeth clacking.

Arthur doesn’t say anything. He barges right in as though it was _his_ room and shoves at Merlin until he is caught between the bed and the wall, air from the window slinking under his covers.

Arthur arranges himself so that he’s pressed against Merlin’s side. Merlin allows it, because he’s a delightfully strong warmth in the midst of the chill. And then Arthur presses his feet against Merlin’s. He pulls back with a hiss.

“Why are your toes so cold Merlin? Where are your socks?”

“Where are yours?” Merlin gripes. He huddles down further, until he’s nestled against Arthur’s chest. Arthur wraps his arm around him, pulls him close, and hooks their legs together.

“I run warm. I didn’t expect to be shoving them against ice blocks.” He carefully presses his feet against Merlin’s again, and Merlin curls his toes at the heat. It doesn’t take long for Arthur to warm Merlin.

“Well, my socks are wet.” Merlin says, sleepily.

Arthur snorts. “Were you sneaking into the kitchens again, then?”

Merlin nods against his chest. “What are you in here, anyway?”

Arthur doesn’t answer Merlin for a long time, and he assumes the blond has fallen asleep.

And then, “Well, surprisingly enough, my room is colder than your feet.”

Merlin snorts. “You were lonely, weren’t you?”

Arthur ignores him, in favor of stroking his fingers through Merlin’s hair. “How mad is your mum going to be, you missing the last train and all?”

“No more than your father.”

It’s not quite a kick, because they’re so close, but Merlin still cries out.

When they’re settled again, curled under Merlin’s ratty quilt but basking in each other, Merlin whispers, “I’m sorry you’ll miss the big Christmas feast.”

Arthur shrugs, jostling them and letting a cool breeze blow between them. “I’m sure you’ll make it up to me tomorrow."

Merlin snorts, but there’s a clumsy, newspaper wrapped sweater underneath his bed, just waiting to be opened.


End file.
